


In A Fervent Light

by imachar



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-06
Updated: 2012-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-29 01:39:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imachar/pseuds/imachar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim gets a very unexpected present, and Bones wins the Enterprise’s “best-Christmas-present-ever” pool.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act I

**Author's Note:**

> This was, in part, inspired by **norfolkdumpling’s** gorgeous manip for **space-wrapped** this year. You can find it here:
> 
> **  
> [Comfort and Joy](http://dumplingdoodles.livejournal.com/4775.html)   
> **
> 
>  
> 
> Unbeta’d so read at your own risk. This is the first time I’ve attempted to write Jim and sex – not sure how successful I’ve been so be gentle. There may be a second part to this in a few days.

Oh yeah, Bones has _so_ fuckin’ won the “best-Christmas-present-ever” pool this year. Jim Kirk is amazed that he’s still sharp enough for his verbal filter to still be operating, but he manages not to just spill out what he’s thinking for once and just shudders and lets his head fall back against the couch cushions. Eyes closed, he’s able to surface for a moment, pushing down the wave of sensation that’s threatening to overwhelm him – the feel of Bones’ skin under his hands, the heat and scent of fucking hanging in the dry resinous desert air, the lingering bite of the tequila that they’ve all been drinking for the last few hours and the slightly desperate sound of his own breath hitching in quiet gasps as each brush of his cock against the soft trail of hair below Bones’ navel sends a flare of need sparking along his nerves.

It’s not that sex with Bones is entirely foreign to Jim – the Academy years had seen countless stress-relieving, mutually beneficial, hand jobs – sometimes drunk, more often sober and entirely cognizant of what they were doing. But that’s years in the past – since then there’s been the Narada, the Enterprise and, most pertinently of all, McCoy’s serious, and up until this point Jim had believed entirely exclusive and monogamous, relationship with one of the very few people in Command that Jim genuinely respects. No, Bones may have won the pool, but he’s not going to be able to actually make good on collecting the proceeds, because really how _do_ you tell the rest of the bridge crew that the CMO’s present to his best friend, the captain, was a threeway with his husband, the Admiral.

Jim’s somewhat scattered internal monologue is rudely interrupted as Bones gives another powerful shove of his hips and nails his prostate for the second time and Jim snaps his head up, eyes opening to the sight of Bones watching him. The intensity of his gaze, hazel irises gone gold and flecked with green in the light of the cottonwood and piñon fire, makes the young captain shiver, hands flexing and tensing on the muscled curves of Bones’ ass as Jim hauls him impossibly closer. Bones hitches his hips again and tightens his own grip, one hand clutched around Jim’s thigh forcing him up and open, the other bracing their weight against the back of the couch.

They've been fucking like this for ten minutes, only the crackle and hiss of the wood in the fire-pit and the harsh whisper of their breathing to leaven the silence and Jim can feel the powerful muscles of his thighs burning with strain as Bones fucks him with slow, deliberate, punishingly deep strokes. He might be the youngest, and probably the fittest, captain in the fleet, but fuck, he’ll be thirty in a little over ten days and he’s not quite as flexible as he was a decade ago. He grunts softly at a particularly inspired shove from Bones, and then looks up at the sound of a quiet laugh and shifts his focus to the other side of the fire-pit where Pike is sprawled in a huge, soft leather armchair.

Clad in nothing but a pair of ancient jeans, open at the fly, and working himself with one slick and skillful hand, Chris looks utterly relaxed. He’s watching both of them through half-lidded eyes, the trace of a smile on his lips and it’s clear that he’s thoroughly enjoying the way that they’ve chosen to carry out his gently worded command to “take the edge off”. No one has said anything overt, but Jim’s a smart boy, he knows that Chris has two decades on Bones, and a full quarter century on his own almost-thirty-years and the best way to get more than one round out of this is for Jim and Bones to fuck each other to a standstill, and then Chris can join the party.

And Jim _really_ wants to get more than one round out of what might well be a one-time-only deal. At least the way Bones explained it while they were driving out to the ranch from the Starfleet shuttle port at the Edwards Flight Training Base, this was Bones’ present to Chris this year, and Chris’s present to him and, quite fortuitously, also their joint present to Jim. Jim would have asked how the hell they even knew he wanted this, but he remembers a shore leave from a couple of months ago, after stressful tour of the Neutral zone, and alcohol getting the best of him, and a drunken confession that he’d always thought Chris was sex-on-legs and what exactly would Bones think about sharing. The only response at the time had been a tolerant smirk and a gruff “Well _hell_ I guess we better think about that.” And then it had never been mentioned again.

So Jim could be forgiven for being a little taken aback when Bones had shown up outside the Engineering Design Center on the Presidio and had informed him that he was taking Christmas off and they would be going to the ranch. With no family currently on Earth, Jim had been planning on spending the time working. Starfleet didn’t shut down for any religious holidays, although the policies on leave were designed to accommodate all but the most obscure religious practices, and from Jim’s perspective it was a perfect time to get in some more hours learning the intricacies of the Enterprise’s new navigation sub-routines. He’d known that Bones and Chris were going to the ranch for a little quality time – he’d assumed they would want to be alone. They only have three months before the Enterprise ships out again and Jim suspects that they are spending every available moment fucking each other senseless; getting their fill of each other before Starfleet separates them for god-alone-knows how long. It’s what he’d be doing, under the same circumstances. He certainly hadn’t expected to be invited along, until Bones had explained the Christmas present part of the deal.

The only illumination is from the fire and the soft light that spills out through the open French doors in to the living room but even in the shadowed dark of the huge, secluded pool patio, Jim can see the slick shine of lube on long fingers as Chris strokes his cock with a slow, lazy rhythm. It sends a fresh shiver of need up Jim’s spine, the thrill of watching and being watched and he grips Bones a little tighter, fingers slipping a fraction on the sweat-slick skin of Bones’ hip.

“This what you want, Jim?” The low, soft growl of Chris’s voice serves to ratchet Jim’s need to an almost unbearable level and he just whines and drops his head back onto the couch cushions, breath coming in hard, fast gasps.

Fervent, mindless, unrestrained sex with two men that he trusts utterly – _fuck yeah_ – this is _exactly_ what Jim wants right now. Casual sex is easy for James T. Kirk, all blue-eyed, golden-skinned charm with the power of the Federation’s flagship at his command. The average planetfall brings him more offers than he knows what to do with. But he’s never really able to fully let go - always guarded, always aware of who he is and what he represents.

But not with these two – they both know him, and in their own ways love him, bone-deep and unconditional – know him well enough to understand that all he wants is uncomplicated, uninhibited fucking. No strings, no recriminations, no awkward morning after, no misunderstanding the intensity and sincerity of his responses. The chance, for once, to be vulnerable, to let go and know that he’s in safe hands – to scream and moan and whimper as he twists and bucks on the thick, curved length of Bones’ cock.

“You gonna come for me, darlin’?” Bones has leaned in, accent thick as his voice goes low and lazy, his breath a damp, heated whisper against Jim’s skin as he trails hot, wet, open kisses up the sandpaper curve of his jaw.

“Oh yeah, fuck yeah.” Jim works a hand between their bodies, wrapping it around his own length, sweat and pre-come serving as a crude lubricant as he pulls and twists in a hard, fast rhythm that is guaranteed to get him off in record time. Pinned once again by the intensity in Bones’ eyes, Jim grins and, ignoring the burn in his muscles, wraps his legs high around Bones’ waist and lays himself open to the unrelenting slide and shove of that generous cock in his ass.

“Such beautiful, beautiful boys – both of you.” The voice from the other side of the fire-pit is even lower now, dark with a fervent, almost awed desire. “Fuck you have no idea what it does to me to watch the two of you together.”

There’s a part of Jim that wants to look up, to see what he’s doing to Chris, to know that _he’s_ put that tone in Chris’s voice, that he’s part of something that is about to make the most self-contained man he’s ever met lose control in the most primal of ways. But it’s too late, he’s too close to his own precipice and it’s all he can do to bury his face in the curve of Bones’ neck and bite down hard as the tight coil of need in his belly suddenly snaps and he’s lost in the exquisite heat of an utterly unrestrained orgasm.

When his head finally clears he’s still pressed back against the couch cushions and Bones is leaning heavily on him, breath coming in heaving gasps and Jim can feel the thunder of both their hearts – sounding a double counter-point in the dimly lit silence. He curls his fingers into the sweat-soaked hair of Bones' nape and squeezes gently, looking past this best of friends to find Chris still sprawled in the easy chair, hands linked behind his head, his cock a taut, flushed curve gleaming slickly in the firelight. The Admiral raises one eyebrow, mouth quirking in that eerily familiar half-smile.

“What? You think I’m going to waste this on my hand?” he hitches his hips just a fraction, cock twitching. “This is for one of you two – your choice, once you’ve recovered.”


	2. Intermission and Act II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys continue their Christmas celebration at the ranch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On LJ this was posted in two parts but, as it's complete, I've just loaded it here as a single second chapter.

**Intermission**

They slide into the hot tub to recover, and Jim relaxes, resting his arms along the smooth wooden lip of the tub and sinking into the heat, watching as Chris throws a couple of chunks of cottonwood onto the fire. Sated though he is, he’s mesmerized by the curve of Chris’s dick emerging from the still open fly and he nudges Bones with his foot. Obviously still recovering both from the orgasm and physical exertion involved in a bout of strenuously athletic fucking McCoy has gone non-verbal, his eyes closed as he sighs happily in the steaming water and he just grunts at Jim’s interruption. Accustomed to Bones’ taciturn ways, Jim just nudges him again until he gets a response, one eye cracking open a fraction.

“What?”

“So, just how long can he keep that up?” Jim tilts his head toward Chris, who is gesturing at the control panel for the patio electronics, opening the weather shield despite the early winter chill, so they can have a distortion-free view of the stars that litter the sky this far from civilization.

Bones laughs, a short, gruff chuckle. “Hours, man – fuckin’ _hours_.” And then he laughs again, and Jim quirks an eyebrow at him in wordless inquiry as Bones directs a speculative look in his direction. “Why, you want him to fuck you with it?”

It’s Jim’s turn to laugh, leaning back to watch Chris as he pulls a couple of bottles of water out of the patio cooler and then pauses to skin off the jeans before he steps back onto the pool deck. He’s long and leanly-muscled, wirier than he was before the Narada, and grayer too, but so damn sexy it _hurts_ and Jim can feel the slow burn of renewed arousal, surprising him with it's intensity – even he usually takes more than fifteen minutes to recover from the kind of bone-melting orgasm that he’s just experienced. 

“Mhmm…” his non-committal response makes McCoy raise one of those gorgeously expressive eyebrows and it takes Jim a moment to frame his response in a way that won’t arouse McCoy’s curiosity any further. Because Jim knows exactly what he wants, and he knows exactly why he wants it and he also knows that if they stop and dissect his motivation for wanting to watch Chris and Bones together rather than indulge his long-held fantasy of laying back and letting Chris fuck him senseless, the ensuing discussion could derail the rest of the evening very quickly. For all his brash, insouciance, Jim has a deep core of emotional intelligence and as much as he trusts that these two know what they are doing tonight, he’s also aware that he’s about to spend the next five years in deep-space with one of them, and he’s not about to do _anything_ to suggest that this is anything more for him than the fulfillment of a casual fantasy.

“Hey, I don’t get to be a lazy son-of-a-bitch very often any more – maybe I just want you guys to do the rest of the work tonight.” It’s not his best effort at deflection, but his brain isn’t fully engaged given that Chris has slid into the hot tub next to him and is stroking a thumb gently up and down his nape.

“Not like you to pass up being the center of attention.” Chris’s voice is low and lazy and quite clearly telegraphs that he knows Jim is deflecting but the tolerant tone suggests that he has no intention of pushing him any further and Jim is grateful for that.

He deflects again with a self-deprecating shrug. “Maybe I like to watch.”

Pike laughs but there’s a wealth of understanding in his face, and a gentle tease in the pale, steel-flecked blue eyes. 

“Yeah, those long patrols get pretty damned tedious when you can’t fuck within your chain of command.” His fingers have curled around Jim’s nape, cupping the base of his skull gently. “Porn’s your friend out there in the black.” And then they’re both laughing, a private captains’ joke, and Jim can see Bones rolling his eyes, shaking his head and smiling indulgently at the two of them. 

“I tell you what.” Chris pulls Jim's head close and growls softly, that low voice, deep and rich and full of promise, at his ear again. “If you really want to sit this one out and just watch, I’ll suck you off when we’re done.”

“Fuck, man.” Jim turns his attention to Bones trying to ignore the twitch of his cock and the sudden throb of need that ripples out along his nerves. “That is so fucking _wrong_. There is no way I’m going to last long enough for him to make good on that.”

Bones is leaning back against the lip of the hot tub, his arms stretched out to the sides, head tipped back and he laughs, “Oh, I’d sure try if I was you. Believe me, it’ll be the best blowjob of your life.”

**Act II**

The fire burns high and bright, sending sparks flaring up into the night sky and Jim leans back in the huge armchair, basking in the warmth and watching through half-closed lids as Chris and Bones settle into the pile of old, softly worn quilts and pillows that are piled in front of the fire. He’s lazy and indolent from the spa and the aftermath of his earlier orgasm, even as the slow warmth of renewed arousal begins to ebb and flow along his nerves – flashes of bright, sweet heat that make his breath catch and his cock throb against his thigh – and he goes to touch himself, to ease the ache a little, only to be pinned by _that voice._

“No touching, Jim.” Chris is leaning back on a massive floor pillow that’s supporting his back and shoulders, half upright, as Bones lowers himself down and apparently manages to take the entire length of Chris’s not insubstantial cock down his throat in one slow, seamless slide. 

Jim has to admit, he’s pretty fucking impressed when Chris doesn’t even blink, but he can’t contain his nascent smirk when Chris goes on, his voice suddenly lower and hitching slightly. “Keep your hands to yourself, I want that cock when I’m done here. I want you dripping and aching and so fucking hard you can’t stand it. I want to _taste_ how much you need to come, and then I want to suck you all the way down my throat and feel it as you lose control. Taste you when you come, hear you scream and then suck you dry and lick you clean.” 

Fucking _bastard_ , Jim feels the spike of lust spark all the way up his spine, the smirk gone as he whines with need and _fuck_ he had no idea Pike had a mouth that filthy – this would have been very useful information all those years ago at the Academy when that mouth was regularly employed to eviscerate him with sarcasm. It would have been a lot easier to take the frequent verbal onslaughts if he’d been able to imagine this kind of language spilling from between those mobile, finely drawn lips. 

Jim can see the laughter in Chris’s eyes, even as the ring of pale gray-blue contracts suddenly and Chris’s fingers tighten convulsively in Bones’ hair, and Jim grins back, mouthing softly, “Asshole.” But he makes sure his hands are linked behind his head, removing any temptation to stroke his now aching cock – he _really_ wants the chance to have Chris make good on his offer.

The next thirty minutes are sheer torture, and more than once Jim thinks he’s going to come in a spectacular, messy, totally mortifying, spontaneous ejaculation without his hand coming anywhere near his dick. It’s only the intellectual and emotional discipline that’s been instilled in him over five years of learning how to lead and inspire a crew of a thousand of Starfleet’s finest that keeps him – writhing and even whimpering occasionally – from coming like a fifteen-year-old in an Orion brothel.

Because, _damn_ , they are really gorgeous together. 

Jim isn’t quite sure what he expected when he admitted that he wanted to watch. He’s been an avid and discriminating consumer of porn for at least the last fifteen years – he was eleven when he first unearthed Sam’s collection of data solids, but didn’t start actually sourcing his own stash until he was a few years older and Sam was long gone – but he has to admit, it’s all been pretty vanilla and decidedly het, except for the occasional foray into “co-ed slumber-party porn”, up to now. He likes to fuck men, but has nearly always stuck to _watching_ women.

But this isn’t porn. This is two men who he knows, and respects and quite frankly loves in his own slightly stunted and unable-to-commit way. Which is just as well in this case since _that_ kind of commitment isn’t called for here - at least not from him. But it’s that bone-deep promise of faith and fidelity that gives erotic and emotional weight to the scene that’s playing out in front of the fire as Bones rides Chris with all the fierce intensity that he pours into everything about which he cares deeply. 

Jim is at just the right angle to watch the slow slide of Chris’s cock into Bones’ ass, each lift of Chris’s hips in perfect sync with the flex of strong thighs and arching of Bones’ back as he sinks down. Neither of them is vocalizing anything intelligible at this point; Bones is whimpering, small sounds of need and deeply-felt pleasure, and Chris is reduced to chest-deep groans that shudder out of him each time he punches his hips and goes deep. They’re both slick with sweat; the firelight striking highlights off muscles that are tense and shaking with strain and Jim can’t help think that this is so exquisitely _right_. He’s always understood intellectually that these two are good for each other, are a part of each other even when they’re separated by hundreds of light years and more days than either of them likes to count. But tonight he can see it, realizes that they are letting him see it – because it’s pretty damn, fucking, obvious that they aren’t holding anything back. Obviously close to losing control, Chris pauses for a moment, his eyes wide and intent as he watches Bones’ face, and then his hand moves between their bodies and Jim can’t see anything, but he knows exactly what is happening as Bones arches one last time and then quivers, groaning a quiet litany of sweet, filthy profanity.

Jim has to clasp his fingers together so tightly it’s painful as he watches his best friend come apart in a gloriously uninhibited climax and then he moans himself as Chris follows with a shuddering arch of his long body under Bones, only silent because he’s pulled Bones down close and has claimed his mouth in a fierce searching kiss. 

After a long still moment, the silence broken only by the harsh whispers of Chris and Bones breathing in concert and the small whimpers of distress from Jim who has now been denied orgasm way past the point of pain, they are all startled as the fire flares in a shower of sparks and Bones rolls off Chris and stretches out on the quilts, propping himself up on his elbows so he can pin Jim with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

“You okay there darlin’?”

“No, I’m fucking _not_ okay – I need to come _now_.” Jim manages to get the words out through gritted teeth and he’s pretty sure that his fingers are irretrievably locked, still linked together at the back of his head, but goddammit he’s in real pain now, his cock throbbing in time with his pulse, the slick shine of pre-come coating the entire, deep-red length of his shaft and pearling in the fine hair below his navel every time his cockhead bounces against his abdomen. He really doesn't want to beg, but he’s reached a point where he’ll do anything for release and he gasps out a relieved sigh as Chris opens his eyes and matches Bones’ arched eyebrow with one of his own. 

“Please, Chris, please – I need to come.”

“Such a polite baby-captain.” The grin is shark-like as Chris levers himself up off the floor and leans close, his breath a torturous tease – hot and moist against Jim’s flesh. “Since you're asking so nicely.”

He sinks down so smoothly, and with such utter confidence as he takes Jim all the way to the back of his throat and swallows that Jim has barely a second to appreciate just how exquisite it feels before his mind is blown and he’s screaming with relief. His entire body is strung taut; shaking as he pours himself down Chris’s throat and all he’s aware of is the howling rush of his own blood in his ears and the bright sparks behind his eyes. 

By the time he’s fully conscious again Chris is leaning back on his heels, still grinning as he rubs a hand gently up and down Jim’s thigh. “Sorry, that was a little fast – I think we might have to try that again when you’ve got that hair-trigger under control.” 

And then Bones is lying back on the quilts, laughing his ass off as Jim gapes at Chris before he recovers and looks across at Bones to ask, aggrieved and insolent all at the same time. “Is he always such a fucking asshole or only when he’s getting laid regularly?”

“Hell darlin’ this is him bein’ nice. You should hear what Boyce has to say about him when I’m gone and he’s _not_ gettin’ laid.”

_**fin** _


End file.
